


Til Death Do Us Part

by ApprenticedMagician



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Aaron is surprisingly well-adjusted and better than Neil at dealing with trauma, Angst with a Happy Ending, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Minor Character Death, Swearing, and it's between Andrew and Neil, implied sexual content only at the end, meaning both Mary and Tilda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-30
Updated: 2017-07-30
Packaged: 2018-12-09 01:45:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11659029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ApprenticedMagician/pseuds/ApprenticedMagician
Summary: Smoke and gasoline were suddenly all Neil could smell. “I’m visiting my mom’s gravesite, in California.”Aaron shrugged his shoulders, jostling his backpack. When Neil didn’t elaborate, Aaron spat, “Nothing’s stopping you.”“That’s just it. I need someone to…” he fidgeted with his duffel, rearranging his grip and Aaron zeroed in on his hand doing it. “Stop me. From running afterwards.”Aaron looked like he wanted to knock Neil’s head into something hard and solid. “Why the fuck would you ask me to do that?”Neil almost didn’t say it but his nose was still tingling with memories. “Because you had Tilda for a mother.”





	1. Thursday

**Author's Note:**

> Incredible thanks go to my friend and beta, jamesiee on [tumblr](http://chocolatechipcookiesplease.tumblr.com) and [ao3](http://archiveofourown.org/users/jamesiee)!! I seriously could not have completed this fic by today without your help, your suggestions, and your 100% round-the-clock support and encouragement. 
> 
> Thanks are also deserved by my big bang artist, officalscreaming on [ tumblr](http://officialscreaming.tumblr.com/), who has made the most [kick-ass playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/phantomtiki/playlist/2KSN0WtxmejTD7JrsAY8fr?play=true&utm_source=open.spotify.com&utm_medium=open&play=true) that could ever apply to this story. Your music selection is so well-fitted to the image in my head and it inspired new spirit when I needed it most this past week. 
> 
> Thank you too to the mods of AFTG Big Bang 2017!! You made for an awesome first big bang experience and have shown me I'm capable of longer and better writing than I think.

_Darkness. The way it always starts, with the back of his eyelids._

_Then he’s up to his neck in water. He knows how to swim. He should be fine._

_But his feet are tied together. His right arm is broken and useless. Two sweaters and a jacket are weighing him down._

_A woman is screeching for her son. She’s howling a name that isn’t ‘Neil’ and it truly is a_ **_howl_ ** _\-  some primal mix between wolf and gales of wind. He’s trying to swim towards her voice, hoping it will lead to solid ground. But he can’t hear very well with ears full of muddy lakewater._  

 _Suddenly a hand grabs the back of his shirt and_ **_yanks hard_** _. He tries to protest but the neckline is choking him. One choked yelp is all that gets out._

_The scene changes with a sharp slap to his face. He feels the sting of whistling air infecting the new cuts on his cheek. There’s blood in his mouth from a bitten tongue. He bit it when she sewed up the bullet wound. They would have been found if he had screamed but it doesn’t matter. There’s a gunshot anyway and then she’s gone. He couldn’t see her before but he knows she’s gone all the same._

_He can hear footsteps. They’re splashing in puddles but it hasn’t rained for a week._  

_Everything vanishes. He can’t move. His legs are as heavy as solid lead and his arms have pins and needles running through them. He’s wet all over, clothes soaked through. There’s blood in his mouth again._

_It’s quiet and dark again. It’s just the familiar scene of a motel room in the dark of the night. Someone else is breathing. It’s not him because he isn’t breathing. He’s frozen stiff, lungs forgotten and shriveled to nothing in his chest._

_“Neil?” comes a voice, disembodied in the pitch. “You okay?”_  

_The voice is Robin. Andrew’s chosen Fox, Robin Cross._

_He has confused reality for a dream. Or otherwise mistaken a dream for reality. He isn’t sure what’s real anymore, isn’t sure he’s looking at Fox Tower, the second closest thing he has to a home, or if he’s finally waking up in another countless motel room, the taste of another fantasy ashen on his tongue, alone and on the run._

 

* * *

 

Neil Josten was standing on the unfamiliar campus of the Medical University of South Carolina. He had nothing with him except an old duffel bag and a sneaking suspicion that he was being stupid. 

This was quickly confirmed once he realized he didn’t know how to go about finding either Aaron or Katelyn Minyard. He could always continue to stand where he was and swivel his head back and forth indefinitely, hoping that one or the other eventually found a reason to visit this side of campus but that was a poor plan and he hated the idea of waiting around.

Neil allowed ten seconds to mentally kick himself. He’d deliberately never made a point to acquire Aaron’s address or contact information, not even last spring when Aaron had plucked Andrew’s phone from it’s charger and keyed in the address he and Katelyn would have in Charleston. Neil had been so sure he would never want to contact the less appealing twin. Now his arrogance had come back to bite him.

His mother would have had a fit, if she were alive to know. Arrogance, pride, dignity – there was never a place for any of those things on the run. Mary had beat that lesson into him repeatedly: every time he refused to root the trash for food, every complaint he voiced about the stolen clothes he wore, every time he whined about running through a bog or hiding in a cramped alley, every time he felt hurt over kids laughing at him in school. (She had never left scars though - Neil had a habit of only remembering his lessons when they lingered under his skin.)

Shaking the memories from his head, Neil tried not to blame himself too much for this early failure. His skillset was geared towards _avoiding_ people, not finding them.

 _‘Still,_ ’ his mother’s sharp voice reprimanded, ‘ _your skillset is unacceptably rusty as it is_.’

He was suddenly hyper-aware of people giving him odd looks, most of them hurried students either playing chicken with him or twisting their bodies to avoid collision. They shot him ugly glares when he didn’t move and some spat aggressive apologies in his face. A couple of girls drinking coffee at a nearby table kept shooting him glances and whispering to each other, probably wondering about his very visible facial scars.

Desperate for invisibility, Neil relocated to the wall and pulled out his phone. Without meaning to, sheerly through force of habit, he opened Andrew’s contact page.

Seeing the familiar image gave him pause. It was a photo of Andrew on the roof and smoking a cigarette, body towards the camera but gaze lingering back over his shoulder. The sun had been setting, lighting Andrew’s hair ablaze with golds and oranges. When Neil asked if he could take a photo, Andrew had merely shrugged, commenting that Neil might as well take it so he could stare at the photo instead of Andrew all the damn time. (To Andrew’s irritation, Neil’s staring hadn’t decreased much at all despite the hours the striker lost to admiring the photo. He lost even more once Andrew graduated and moved to New York to play for the Liberties, which had happened six months ago.)

Neil wondered if he should just give in and call Andrew. It would be a shame to waste his deception after coming this far but Andrew had always made everything easier before – why would this most recent haunting be any different?

His thumb hovered over ‘Call’. His mind’s voice, his mother’s biting tone, was listing all the reasons – _good_ reasons – why he hadn’t already told Andrew about his plan. They seemed so paltry now, when he was face to face with that piece of Andrew’s soul, captured in the one photo Neil had of him. He _wanted_ to bring his thumb down, tap ‘Call’ to just hear Andrew’s voice and then hang up immediately, which seemed like a very stupid thing to do. Even stupider, a small part of Neil wanted to call and confess on bended knee to every jagged piece of himself that he’d been choking on for the last half year without Andrew by his side.

Holding back sudden tears, Neil swiftly backed out of Andrew’s contact. He’ll pay for it later, when Andrew finds out what he’s been doing, but Neil was already so much of a wreck in body, mind, and soul; he didn’t care all that deeply about letting Andrew know how ruined Neil was without him. More than that, Neil didn’t want to know how Andrew would handle the truth of Neil’s fragility - it wasn’t fair to ask Andrew to be his strength.

Refocusing on the problem at hand, Neil scrolled through the rest of his short contact list, considering each option as carefully as he cared to.

Nicky would definitely know Aaron’s address but Nicky couldn’t keep a secret to save his life. The risk was high that he’d spill the beans to Andrew the next time he called. Worse, Nicky might call Andrew immediately afterwards, wondering aloud why Neil wanted to get in touch with Aaron after almost five years of animosity.

Renee had a good chance of possessing Aaron’s contact as well. Despite traversing the roughest parts of the world with the Peace Corps, Renee had kept impeccable correspondence with all the Foxes and often wrote them letters. Still, there was no guarantee that a call to Renee would connect given that her cell service was unreliable at the best of times. And even if he did manage to reach her, Neil wasn’t certain that she’d keep his actions a secret from Andrew. Renee didn’t believe in helping others hurt themselves.

Kevin more than likely didn’t know Aaron’s contact since Aaron hadn’t continued playing Exy post-graduation.

Matt probably had access to Aaron’s contact through his mom, Randy Boyd, who had taken a strong liking to Aaron ever since the Foxes’ trip to New York in Neil’s freshman year. Back in Neil’s second year, Randy had attended the whole proceedings of Aaron’s trial and began sending weekly care packages to Aaron after the charges were dropped. (Matt had spent half an hour convinced Randy had mislabeled the box when the first one arrived - it became a thing in Matt and Aaron’s apartment to steal the latest care package - no matter whose it was - and hide it from each other in increasingly bizarre nooks.) The most appealing thing about calling Matt was his staunch loyalty to Neil – he would definitely keep his lips zipped on Neil’s plans if Neil only asked him to. But Neil felt uneasy. Calling Matt required telling Randy, and it likely meant telling Dan as well. Neil trusted all three of those people to keep quiet if he asked, but Mary’s paranoia was insisting that three people was too many people to tell - gave too many people tabs on him.

Dan presented the same problem, even if Neil thought he might be able to convince her to keep things quiet from Matt. He strongly suspected she’d only comply by tracking him down herself and supervising his entire journey which presented an enormous problem. No voice in his head needed to speak up for Neil to know he couldn’t bear doing any of this with Dan. Dan Wilds was everything Mary Hatford had never been, her strength full of vigorous life and not driven by mad survival. Neil wasn’t sure he’d be able to hold onto any affection for his late mother if Dan, in all her shining comparison, stood on Mary’s grave.

That left Allison.

Neil nearly thumbed back to Andrew again but he pressed ‘Call’ to Allison’s name before he could think of any reason not to.

The call rang twice.

“ _Why_ _Neil_ ,” Allison cooed, “ _what an unexpected surprise!_ ”

She sounded just the same as ever; her voice, intonation, and lilt as primped and painstakingly put together as the rest of her body always was. All at once, he missed her terribly and longed for the days she had spent fussing over him head to toe.

“There’s no such thing as an _expected_ surprise,” he said, the day’s first and only smile rolling across his face, miniscule though it was.

“ _You’ve clearly never been rich, hun._ ” They both ignored the fact that Neil had spent years of his life carrying millions of dollars on his person. “ _Now, I’d ask you how you are but I don’t think you called for chit-chat. So how about you get right to it and tell me_ **_everything_** _._ ” She clicked her tongue, anticipating (or maybe merely hoping for) juicy news.

Neil tried to speak and found his throat unusually tight. “There’s nothing to tell, Allison.”

She hummed disbelievingly, then moved on to suggesting he had called for a favour. “ _You don’t need money, do you? You couldn’t have spent your savings that fast – you don’t have a materialistic impulse in your entire body. Everyone knows it’s Andrew who can’t save a dime to save his life._ ”

It’s this instinct in her to provide two of whatever he needs that reminds Neil why he couldn’t have stood Allison’s company on this journey either. True, Allison understood the need for silence in grief and she also knew the pain of unfinished business or incomplete closure, thanks to Seth’s murder all those years ago. But she wouldn’t understand his need to do nothing else afterwards. Allison always wanted to recover from trauma, come out the other end stronger than before so she could prove wrong everyone who said she’d never bounce back. Neil wasn’t interested in recovering so much as reopening old wounds – a type of self-flagellation that almost none of his Foxes would approve of. Save one.

He’s reminded why it _has_ to be Aaron who goes with him to Mary’s grave. It has to be the one person who would let him do this, if only to watch Neil suffer. It has to be the one person who has an equally, if not more, complicated relationship with their mother. And when it’s over, Aaron won’t offer any words of comfort or suggestions for help because at the end of the day, Aaron won’t care about Neil’s mental well-being.

Resolved once more, Neil finally bites out, “I need to find Aaron.”

Allison fell silent. He could hear the faint clack of manicured nails rhythmically tapping along a hard surface. “ _You’re not at Palmetto, are you?_ ”

She wasn’t asking.

“No,” he answered anyway.

“ _And you called me because you need to find… Aaron…_ ” Her words were slow, as though she were parsing something out. Then she said, certain, “ _Andrew doesn’t know you’re gone._ ”

Neil didn’t bother confirming.

“ _Neil,_ ” she growled, voice hardened to steel, “ _are you in trouble?_ ”

He almost said ‘I’m fine’ but thanks to years of reprimands and smacks to his head, he instead conceded, “I’m not in trouble.” And then, because for a moment he panicked over how much he didn’t know what he was doing or really even _why_ he was doing it, he also said, “I’m not fine either, Allison,” (a rare confession for him) “and I don’t want to talk about it. I just need to find Aaron.”

She scoffed. “ _C’yeah, Aaron. Cuz_ **_he’s_ ** _the one who will make it all better._ ”

She left space for him to wheedle her further but he had already spilled more to her than his paranoia approved of. Now he was choking back more panic at the thought that Allison might not help him, might call Andrew instead, might do it thinking it was for his own good. And he couldn’t think of a damn thing to say that might convince her otherwise.

He tried to hide his heavy breathing from her, tried to focus on breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth, in a strategy to self-sooth. He couldn’t tell if it was working.

“Please,” he begged, at length. He knew his voice broke. It was strange to shape his tongue around the word he hadn’t spoken for years, not ever since Andrew told him why it was so despised. He felt immediately disgusted with himself, his sweat turning slimey against his skin, and his head looking over his shoulder, as though he expected Andrew to be standing behind him, betrayed and appalled.

It worked though. He could hear her clicking nails pick up in agitated rhythm. “ _You text me,_ ” she demanded. “ _Twice a day. With a photo of what better be your unbruised and non-bloody face. For every day of whatever crazy stunt you’re pulling. The very_ **_minute_ ** _twelve hours go by and I haven’t heard from you, I call your man._ ”

Neil could have cried from relief. “Deal,” he choked, trying to grab hold of the lifeline she had tossed him – a twice-daily reminder of Neil Josten and the living family he has waiting for him, the ones not buried in a California beach.

She rattled off the address, knowing it through some of the ex-Vixens who had come to work for Allison’s fashion company. She made some half-hearted attempt to keep him on the phone after that but Neil was itching to run now that he had a direction and he didn’t listen with much attention.

She sighed, giving up. “ _Twelve hours, Neil._ ”

“Twelve hours,” he promised, hanging up and looking up the number for a cab.

 

* * *

 

After a quick look at the scars on his face, his cab driver asked a solemn, “You need to talk to someone?" 

Neil simply replied, “No, I’d rather not.” The driver hadn’t attempted to continue the conversation after that.

Neil spared a moment to wonder if he was grateful for the offer of help that had come in kindness from a stranger. He concluded he wasn’t; questions from strangers felt prying and too much like they wanted to learn personal details about his life, which Neil had always connected with nefarious intentions. The same thing had happened once when he was thirteen and newly on the run with his mother. A friendly woman with a chihuahua had been making polite conversation in the grocery store and asking him questions about his life and school. Four hours later Mary had put a bullet in her skull for trying to abduct Neil back to the Butcher.

Trying to wander away from those memories, Neil gazed out the window and tried to think of what he might say to Aaron when he arrived on his doorstep. To his chagrin, his thoughts got distracted by the city passing by and another pressing memory of his mother.

Neil and Mary had never traveled through South Carolina. Even after his first year at Palmetto, Neil hadn’t bothered to explore the state all that much. Despite that, there was something about Charleston that his body recognized; something that made it feel familiar.

It must be his mind playing tricks, he thought. There were still days where Palmetto and Columbia felt foreign to him, despite the years he’d spent living and loving in each location. Sometimes his extensive and specific escape route plans from either place unsettled him enough that he isn’t able to make a home out of either location. It never lasts long, only ever for a day or two but those days are the worst because he feels like an imposter in his own room.

It had been different when Andrew lived in those places with him. Back then, Neil could think of _home_ and remember burning kisses, long drives, a Minyard jersey, and one half of every pair of keys, with no thoughts of escape routes from any of those.

But without Andrew around to ground and root him, Neil thought of _home_ and remembered sixteen cities and hundreds of motel rooms across several countries. He remembered Paula, Brunhild, Elizabeth, and seventeen other names – the mothers to Alex, Stefan, Chris, and seventeen other people he had been.

(Jackson Pine, the alias before Neil Josten, had been the only other version of him to know life without a mother. It was also the only passport, credit card, and alias Neil had kept hidden from the federal agents, for safekeeping and emergencies. Everything Jackson owned was safely tucked away in Neil’s duffel and the plane ticket from Clemson to Charleston had almost been bought in Jackson’s name. Neil had backed off at the last minute, saving this trump card for when he wanted to run and never come back, if that day ever came.)

Running his fingers over the old, ratty duffel, Neil’s thoughts floated again to Mary Hatford, the voice in his head who had been speaking up an awful lot lately. He had been thinking of her on and off for weeks, though not by choice (Exy and Andrew were still where his mind lingered when he could control it). Instead, Mary had been sneaking into dreams and nightmares, all of them too terrifying to fade away like regular dreams. She didn’t appear every night at first, just those that he was exhausted from practice, patience worn thin trying to break in the year’s freshmen Foxes.

The first time she appeared and he woke up in a cold sweat - after he had come to grips with what exactly _had_ happened, what had been real, and what had been fiction (except it had _all_ happened; it hadn’t all happened at once, but it had _all happened_ ) -  he had reached to call Andrew and found his phone without any battery.

The second time, weeks later, his phone had fallen out of his badly trembling hands and he spent half a terrible hour tangling himself in the sheets trying to find it. He had succumbed to claustrophobia before he reached it.

The third time he woke from those dreams, he fell straight from the nightmare into a panic attack and didn’t even bother with his phone; just clutched the back of his neck and tried _so hard_ not to wake and worry Robin sleeping beneath him.

He’d stopped counting and trying to call after that.

It was still awful though, bad enough that Neil wanted to see Andrew with every fibre of his being, wanted to breath him in like purified air, wanted to _cling_ to him and never let him leave – just the way Mary used to do with Neil. But Neil remembered how suffocating that was, he re-lived it every night now, and he knew Andrew carried his own painful reservations about touching and closeness. He’d never risk drowning Andrew just to make him his anchor.

Andrew had plans to fly out to Columbia for Thanksgiving. Neil was meant to meet him, leaving the long weekend practice-free for once but then Neil had gotten it in his head that Mary might disappear if he could visit her grave and... purge her somehow. So he had called Andrew and talked him out of their plans to see each other, spouting some lie about taking the new Foxes to boot-camp because they were still divided as a team. He wasn’t sure if Andrew had bought the lie but Neil had timed it so the call occurred just after a Liberties game and press conference; both had dragged on longer than expected because the play went to a shootout which, famously, had gone to shit because Elise Ling of the Las Vegas Outlaws was as good a striker as Andrew was a goalkeeper - but more experienced. Andrew had been exhausted, pissed off, and uncharacteristically divided in his attention when Neil called.

Giving his excuses to Wymack had been much simpler, bag over his shoulder while waving goodbye and saying he’d pass on Wymack’s best when he met Andrew in Columbia.

He wondered about the look Wymack might give him if he knew Neil was pulling up to Aaron’s apartment in Charleston. He wondered if any money would exchange hands. He couldn’t imagine it. In fact, Neil could scarcely believe he was actually going through with his plan but the cab had already slowed to a stop.

 

* * *

 

He’d already pressed the buzzer to their apartment when he realized no one might be home. At four o’clock in the afternoon and with both Aaron and Katelyn’s ambitions in medicine, it was entirely possible that one or both of them were wrapped up in classes or out with friends. (Neil wasn’t naïve enough to think Aaron and Katelyn were as prone to isolation as he and Andrew were.) 

His worry was for naught though. Katelyn’s cheery voice came through the building’s intercom, “ _Hello?_ ”

Neil spared a thought to be glad she was the one who answered. He’d have a harder time convincing Aaron to let him in. “Katelyn, hi. It’s Neil. Can I come in?”

She didn’t say anything. Neil swallowed, trying not to let his nerves get the best of him. He thought the cab driver might still be watching him, suspicions probably climbing every minute. “Katelyn?”

“ _Yeah, sorry,_ ” she said, voice noticeably stressed now. “ _Sorry I just… It’s Neil Josten, right?_ ”

Neil bit his lip, wondering if there was another Neil in their life who would plausibly be ringing their doorbell. Katelyn sounded like she was trying to prove to herself that she had the wrong idea.

Maybe they wouldn’t be as open to helping him as he had been counting on.

Maybe his venture would end right here, on the welcome mat of an apartment complex in a city he knew but didn’t know.

“Yeah,” he said, half-way to giving up and knowing it came through in his voice. “It’s Neil Josten.” Then, because he wondered if this was her worry, he added, “Andrew isn’t with me.”

She took a few seconds to respond but she did sound less strained when she asked, “ _Why do you want to come in, Neil?_ ”

No going back. “I need to ask Aaron a favour.”

“ ** _You_ ** _need to ask_ **_Aaron_ ** _a favour._ ” It was amazing how alike she sounded to Allison. Neil didn’t bother saying more; she would be curious and let him in or she would be ruthless and ask him to leave no matter what his reasons were.

After a minute – Neil imagined her chewing her nails or tapping a foot – Katelyn said, “ _We’re up on the third floor,_ ” and a buzzing sound signaled the unlocking of the building’s front door. Neil didn’t bother waving or looking to the driver behind him.

Katelyn was waiting for him in the doorway to the apartment when he came out the stairwell. She looked well. Her clothes were loose and comfortable and hair was up, looking like she hadn’t left the apartment that day. She wore a small goofy apron and her hands were wet like she had just washed them – she had probably been preparing dinner when he interrupted. She didn’t move to let him enter the apartment so Neil stood still before her, giving her time to conduct her own analysis of him and why he might have come to see them.

As she scanned him, Neil shuffled in place and adjusted the strap on his shoulder. He knew he looked rough; his outfit was one he had brought to Palmetto, before he had Andrew, Nicky, and Allison to shop for and dress him; and he knew he looked guarded with his hood up and his hands hidden by large sleeves. He hoped the image he struck was inspiring sympathy in Katelyn rather than suspicion.

Thankfully, it seemed to do just that. “Neil…” she said, her face and shoulders falling, relaxing into something unexpectedly worried. “What’s happened?”

Trying to sound affected – though not actually needing to try very hard – Neil asked with a small voice, “Can I come in?”

Slowly, perhaps so that he didn’t startle, Katelyn stepped into the hall and herded him through the door to the apartment. She was careful not to actually touch him and he was more grateful than he expected.

Once his shoes were off, she rallied him towards the kitchen table, saying to make himself at home while she readied a pot of tea for them. Aaron wasn’t home; Neil had known as soon as he’d seen the shoes left in the foyer, all of them a size too big to fit Aaron’s feet. Ignoring his seat in the kitchen for the time being, eyes uninterested in the mess of notebooks, papers, and pencils scattered on top of it, Neil dropped his bag and explored the apartment instead, curious beyond words to witness the difference in decorative inclinations between the Minyard twins.

Andrew’s apartment in New York was sparse and mostly bare-walled, save a photo of the Foxes championship win from Neil’s freshman year and a framed copy of own rookie card (Neil had found it online and _could not resist_ ). The floors and tables were also kept clean, even from crumbs. There had been a plant at some point but it had been tossed as soon as the cat moved in. Now Andrew had a cactus, a thing that continuously fascinated Sir Fat Cat McCatterson - Andrew had sent more than one video of Sir stretching out a paw to tap and inspect the plant, jumping back and hissing each time he poked himself.

In contrast, Aaron and Katelyn’s apartment was spotted with several photos, houseplants, and just a little bit of clutter. Their bedroom door was closed and the bathroom had nothing fancy to it, though Neil noticed the door couldn’t be locked.

The living room was much livelier. A blue betta fish swam in a fishbowl on the coffee table next to the couch, sharing the space with the day’s newspaper and a pair of reading glasses. A bookshelf took up one entire wall but it’s shelves were only half-full, supporting the weight of textbooks, references sources, some recreational paperbacks, and a few board games, none of which Neil had ever heard of. A photo album was prominently displayed on its own shelf – it had been a wedding present from Dan, if Neil remembered right – and Neil was sorely tempted to look through it, curious to see if Aaron considered his life as having begun after Palmetto or if he would have any photos of the old Foxes mixed in those pages. Neil gave in to his temptation easily.

The first few pages were filled with their wedding. A sensible enough starting point, Neil supposed, and understandably a memory the couple would want to preserve. Then he realized some photos were from Dan and Matt’s white-and-orange wedding – Neil was featured heavily in these, having been Matt’s best man and practically glued to his side for the ceremony and dinner afterwards. There was also a single photo of Kevin and Thea exchanging vows, both adorned in white. Thea was accented with Raven red, Kevin with Fox orange.

After that there were photos that Nicky must have sent from Germany, frames full of Nicky and Erik and lots of other people, many who shared Erik’s nose and jawline. The rest of the pages portrayed people and places that Neil didn’t recognize. Katelyn and Aaron were wearing their wedding rings in these photos, so Neil surmised they must be people from their life here in Charleston.

The album was only half-full by the time he was finished but Neil noticed a peculiar stiffness to the last page in the back. Turning to it, he felt the breath leave his body as his mind came to a stuttered, breath-taking halt.

There were two photos, both taken at a nondescript beach during either sunrise or sunset. One of them caught the profile of Aaron’s face, head towards the right of the frame but eyes turned directly at the camera, smiling and alight with life and affection. The other photo was of Katelyn, eyes scrunched closed but mouth open in laughter as Aaron’s hand reached through the bottom corner (his wedding band freshly adorned) to throw sand at her face. She was beaming brighter than Neil had seen _anybody_ beam.

With haste, Neil shut the album closed. He felt strangely like he had just intruded on something sacred. The photos were likely from Aaron and Katelyn’s secret honeymoon, a spontaneous vacation to some coastline that no one had been told about until after it was over. (Nicky had moaned and complained for a week about being excluded and then dedicated a week to punishment, being annoyingly suggestive with Aaron, elbowing him incessantly and winking at Katelyn each time she came around.) Uncomfortable with disturbing this past happiness, Neil set the album back on the shelf and returned to the kitchen, lest he intrude in their joy any further.

Katelyn was ready for him at the kitchen table, apron removed, and pouring tea into two mugs. She bit her lip when she looked at him, possibly unnerved that he had wandered her space unsupervised. Neil would certainly feel the same in her position. He felt his face flush, suddenly conscious that he hadn’t asked permission to snoop. Katelyn refrained from commenting.

“Sugar, Neil?” She asked. “Maybe honey?”

Neil shook his head as he sat. “Just a little milk, thanks.”

Now there was little left in the way of distractions from the tension between them. Some of the tension was due to his snooping and the questions Neil knew Katelyn had to have buzzing through her mind, but things had always been a little strained between them. They had no personal dislike for each other but they did share a mutual dislike of each other’s choice in partner, similar to the way Neil disapproved of every man Allison had chosen to date.

Katelyn had made efforts the past year and a half to bridge the distance between their two couples, especially once Aaron had proposed to her and she became a permanent fixture in the Minyard family tree. Most of her attempts had been… wasted, though Neil always convinced Andrew to at least try her baked goods before throwing them away. (So far, bottles of Russian vodka and batches of her homemade Rocky Road fudge were the only gifts Andrew accepted and kept.) Neil had been a little less won over by her offerings of friendship since he didn’t have much of a sweet tooth but it helped that Andrew seemed to appreciate the reminders that he was wanted and welcome in his brother’s life. Still, there was no one who could call Neil and Katelyn _friends,_ even if his only distaste for her carried over from his antagonism with Aaron.

When he raised the tea to his lips, Katelyn took a breath, set her phone deliberately on the table between them and looked at him straight on. Neil might have choked if her look was half as piercing as Andrew’s. She was as serious as she could be though. This was her own kind of power move.

“I told Aaron that you’re here,” she said, as though warning him of something he hadn’t already guessed.

Neil nodded, keeping his tea close to sip again. “He’s who I came to see – no offense.”

Katelyn released a puff of air, nodding back. Restless, she grabbed her phone back but instead of doing anything with it, she tapped it against her palm a few times and bit her lip, her gaze steady even though her blinking had increased substantially.

“Neil…” her nails began drumming against her phone case, the sound ringing unusually loud in Neil’s ears. “I hate to ask this but… I have to. Um,” her gaze flew briefly upwards and she took another breath to steel her shoulders. “Are you running from Andrew?”

Neil froze. Katelyn licked her lips. Neil wasn’t sure what to say, mind stuttering over the implications of her question. What did she think? That Andrew had… what? _Hit_ him?

“What are you asking?” His voice was cold. He half-expected his breath to fog up the air in front of him.

Instead of growing defensive or feeble, like she might have years ago, Katelyn grew equally icy and threw him a sharp glare. “You show up out of nowhere, an old duffel on your shoulder, looking like you haven’t slept for a month, and looking for the last person you’d ever go to for help. I’m not an idiot; so yeah, the fact that you’re coming to _Aaron_ for help instead of Andrew is raising alarms for me. I’ll ask you again: has Andrew caused a problem for you that he can’t fix?”

Neil was seeing red. “Unbelievable,” he muttered, slamming his tea down and pushing his chair back to stand.

“Neil –”

“You know what, Katelyn,” he spat her name like it was something rotten, “I know you’ve been trying – like, _really_ trying – to earn Andrew’s acceptance and approval. Given how little ground you’ve gained over the years, I’d say your odds aren’t good at ever amounting to anything on that front. But so we’re clear: you’ve just lost mine.”

He snatched up his bag and marched towards the door, ignoring both her pleas to slow down and the voice screeching in his own mind about how little sense this dramatic storm out made. Luckily for his pride, the front door opened up before he could get to it.

“Neil,” Aaron said, chest heaving like he had ran the whole way home, slamming the door behind him, “can’t say I’m happy to see you.”

“Aaron,” Neil returned, still half mad with thoughts of escaping while he still hadn’t revealed anything.

“You alright, Kate?” Aaron kept his eyes on Neil when he asked it.

“I’m fine, baby.” Okay, _now_ Neil understood why he had always been smacked for saying that. She reached around Neil for her own coat though, grabbed her purse and a pair of shoes. “I’m just gonna go – grab us some take-out. Pizza okay with you?” She dropped a distracted kiss on Aaron’s lips and didn’t wait for an answer before she stepped around him and out of the apartment, shoes still held in the hand that wasn’t wiping her face. The echo of the stairwell door opening gave away how desperate she was to put distance between them. Neil didn’t bother feeling bad about it.

Aaron clearly thought differently. “You have two minutes to talk me out of kicking your ass to the curb.”

Neil scoffed, not impressed by Aaron’s tough talk. “Do you know your wife worries Andrew might be beating me behind everyone’s back?”

Aaron didn’t bat an eyelash. “ _My wife’s_ little sister just left her abuser four months ago. It took a severe beating and a week in the hospital for her to walk away. ‘Course, she wasn’t walking at the time and she still can’t see anything out of her right eye.” Neil resisted the urge to look at his feet but his stomach plummeted all the same, memories of past injuries too close to the surface given his recent nightmares. “So you’ll forgive Katelyn for refusing to be complacent in another case of domestic violence. In fact, I think you’ll _thank_ her when she comes back, for sticking her nose in and checking up on you because you and I both know Andrew does not draw the line at violence.”

“He does when it isn’t deserved.”

Aaron laughed and Neil thought it was the first time he’d heard it sound so cruel. “Yes, and you’re the perfect example of someone undeserving.”

Neil clenched his fists hard enough to feel the scar tissue pull at his knuckles.

“Now tell me why the fuck you’re here. _Uninvited_.”

Smoke and gasoline were suddenly all Neil could smell. “I’m visiting my mom’s gravesite, in California.”

Aaron shrugged his shoulders, jostling his backpack. When Neil didn’t elaborate, Aaron spat, “Nothing’s stopping you.”

“That’s just it. I need someone to…” he fidgeted with his duffel, rearranging his grip and Aaron zeroed in on his hand doing it. “Stop me. From running afterwards.”

Aaron looked like he wanted to knock Neil’s head into something hard and solid. “Why the fuck would you ask _me_ to do that?”

Neil almost didn’t say it but his nose was still tingling with memories. “Because you had Tilda for a mother.”

“So did Andrew.”

“No, he didn’t.”

Andrew’s mother had been Cass, once upon a time. Months back, when Neil was first starting to think of his mother, he had wondered if Cass still occupied that space in Andrew’s heart. He realized she didn’t when, on their next phone call, Andrew told him, without prompting, about the surprise visit Betsy had paid him in New York. But either way, it wasn’t enough – Neil needed to talk about Mary to someone who would understand the confliction towards someone who had loved him and hit him in the same breath; he needed someone who would understand the ache of not being able to talk to her even if only to tell her the armful of issues she had landed him with.

Aaron grimaced, mouth twisting like he was trying hard not to spit something out. “You want… Let me get this right –” His hands came up to rub his face, almost like he was trying to force himself awake from a bad dream. “You want a _buddy_ trip with me over our shared mommy issues?”

“No, I’m going with or without you – I’ve already planned enough to do that much. I’d just feel better if you, if –” _ugh_ , it was like cold molasses was pouring down his back, " _someone_ came with me to stop me from doing anything stupid. I can’t promise I won’t disappear if I go alone.”

Aaron didn’t look fooled. Katelyn had said as much that Aaron was the last person Neil would have come to if just anyone could do the job. But he didn’t look like he was immediately opposed to the idea either. Maybe he was trying to figure out what Neil would owe him if he did him this favour.

When he finally broke the silence, he simply said, “Andrew doesn’t know you’re here, does he?” Neil didn’t shake his head but Aaron answered it for himself the same way Allison had. “Right, of course. Coming this far is already enough stupid that Andrew would have stopped you.” He tilted his head, humming lightly under his breath. Then he sighed and muttered, “You have a hotel room or something?”

“No.”

“Course not.” Neil didn’t think he was supposed to have heard that. “Put your stuff by the couch and don’t say a word. I have required reading to do.”

Neil took the opportunity of being ignored to send Allison his first picture and text, making sure to fit the fish in the picture as proof of his location. Then he curled up to wait, still unsure if Aaron had passed judgment yet and, if he had, what it meant for him.

 

* * *

 

 **_From: Allison  
_** _Eye bags are not your style, sweetheart. Please get some sleep!_


	2. Friday

The next morning, after Neil had already left for an early morning run, Aaron put aside his homemade coffee and pulled out his phone. The call rang twice before it was answered with a tired and snappy, “ _What?_ ”

Under other circumstances – or maybe in an alternate timeline – Aaron might have laughed to himself and hung up immediately. Waking Andrew up at six o’clock in the morning almost felt like a prank; it could have been one between any regular pair of brothers. Too bad Neil was, as usual, ruining everything.

“You wouldn’t believe my surprise,” Aaron drawled, “when I came home yesterday to see your boy toy having tea with my wife.”

Andrew’s ensuing silence told Aaron that he had been right – for all his careful words about ‘couldn’t promise he wouldn’t disappear’, Neil had effectively already run and Andrew hadn’t known a damn thing about it. “ _…Neil’s with you? Why._ ”

“Wants me to do him a favour. Take him to his mother’s grave in California. He also asked me not to tell you about it since you wouldn’t understand.” He hadn’t, but Aaron felt vindicated enough to stir up a little trouble for Neil when he inevitably returned home.

“ _So why tell me about it?_ ” Even when he’d been left in the dark, Andrew was touchy about secrets being shared when they were asked to be kept. Aaron couldn’t be bothered to give a rat’s ass.

“One favour at a time, brother.”

Aaron didn’t need to spell out to Andrew that Neil was asking too much by Minyard calculations – Aaron might be willing to babysit Neil, if only for Andrew’s sake. But it was too much to ask Aaron to protect Andrew and then keep secrets from him in the same shitty breath.  He hoped it was some degree of reassuring for Andrew, knowing that Aaron would be staying close while Neil wrestled through whatever crazy scheme he had cooked up.

“ _I see._ ” The fact that he bothered with such a useless sentence to fill the quiet betrayed Andrew’s discomfort with the whole thing. Aaron wondered what he was thinking of doing, if anything, and decided it was best if Andrew not get any ideas.

“You don’t, actually.” Disgusting as it was, Neil had been right to come to him; if anyone had a more messed up relationship with their mother than Neil, it was Aaron. “But I do. You should let him do this. Alone, like he wants.”

Andrew didn’t respond right away. Aaron couldn’t hear him breathing; he wondered if he had moved the phone away or if Andrew’s lungs had just stopped altogether. Finally, Andrew came back and said, “ _I can’t_ **_let_ ** _Neil do anything or not. He’s his own man._ ” A beat of hesitation. “ _Keep him safe, Aaron._ ”

A flood of rage overcame him. Viciously, Aaron thought, ‘ _Too bad the bathroom doesn’t lock or I could just “keep him safe” for you here._ ’

No less vicious, Aaron swore, “I’m done making promises to you.”

He ended the call before anything more could be said, frustrated to see his hand trembling when he dropped his phone and reached for his mug. If this call had happened years ago – if Andrew had asked anything this significant of him years ago – it might have felt like Aaron had won something, like he was finally being acknowledged by the brother who had no time and no love for him. It didn’t feel like that now.

It felt so far from that, actually; it felt like he was sitting on Betsy’s couch all over again, all the way back to the first time he and Andrew had seen her, flesh laid bare for each other to wound. The problem then had been that every biting remark he threw at Andrew left a sting on his own body, like every cut he inflicted copied an identical twin injury on himself.

Aaron had never gotten the hang of apologizing, not under Tilda’s roof and not in Betsy’s office. To ease his nagging conscience some, Aaron sent a text but he didn’t bother seeing if Andrew read it. Besides, he had a bag to pack (and a ghost to shut up, spouting an old familiar mantra of ‘ _Rude boy, mean boy, you like to hurt other people? You like pain so much, is that it?_ ’)

 

* * *

 

 ** _From: Aaron  
_ ** _I’ll call if he needs you._

 

* * *

 

The drive to the airport had been awkward. Katelyn and Neil hadn’t said a word to each other since dinner last night and they were doing their best not to look in each other’s direction now. Katelyn stepped out when they pulled up to the Departures gate though, walking around to give Aaron a tight hug and kiss.

“Let me know if you have any questions for the study group tomorrow,” she reminded him.

Neil walked away from them then. Aaron wondered if it made him uncomfortable to hear pieces of a life he didn’t have. It was a strange thought to have; Aaron didn’t typically associate Neil with envy.

“Hey,” he said, pulling her back when she moved to return to the driver’s seat. “You were right to ask him. About Andrew.”

She smiled for him, stroked his cheek and gave him another kiss. He was happy to make her do that – it helped ease the memory of Tilda’s voice that was _still fucking running_ through his head. Besides, he hadn’t forgotten how physical Andrew’s initial threats towards Katelyn had been; this was about being on her side, as her husband, not about whether he believed Andrew could ever raise a hand towards Neil (even though he didn’t).

“I’ll see you when you get home,” she said.

 _Home_.

“I love you,” he said, still a marvel to say those words and mean them, still a wonder to see her light up when he said it because it meant something special to her that he did love her.

“Love you too.” And with one more kiss and a hand run through her hair, she was gone.

Once on the plane, Aaron tuned out the safety demonstration and dragged out three articles he had to read for Monday. Neil tried ignoring the hostess by looking past Aaron and out the window but Aaron could tell he kept getting distracted in watching him flip papers. Aaron hoped Neil wasn’t somehow mistaking him for Andrew, eyes flickering and observing his body’s features out of sheer habit. Neil apparently realized what he was doing and looked repulsed at his own behaviour; he resolutely turned forward and closed his eyes, preparing himself to sleep on the ten-hour plane ride.

Within the time it took Aaron to finish his first article, Neil was twitching through a REM cycle. Aaron took a minute to observe the signs of exhaustion on Neil’s face, looking for any changes after a night on their pull-out couch.

As far as he could tell, the bags under Neil’s eyes were as dark as they had been yesterday. His hair was limp despite the shower he had taken after his run and his skin was still a sickly pallor. He wondered how long thoughts of this journey had been eating away at the younger man.

‘ _Considering it’s Josten and required coming to_ **_me_ ** _for help,_ ’ Aaron reflected, ‘ _probably the better part of a year._ ’

This trip couldn’t have happened while Andrew had still been around anyway. Just because Aaron didn’t understand the why of Andrew and Neil’s… attraction, didn’t mean he didn’t know the all-encompassing depth of it or understand how something like that could distract even the most wretched of trauma.

Aaron looked away, trying to think of something else. With nothing to see but the tops of clouds outside, that left his own thoughts to wander, like Neil’s, to his mother…

Tilda Minyard had not been cared for in life.

It was fitting that her headstone had also been neglected and ill-cared for, the one time he and Katelyn had gone to visit it. The weeds and grass in the cemetery had grown long enough to cover the stone plaque bearing her name; they had passed by her grave three times before finding it. Neither he nor Katelyn had reached to clear the plants away, even though Katelyn had looked at him like she wanted to. Aaron hadn’t seen the point in cleaning it – he wasn’t planning to ever visit again and if Luther wasn’t coming to pay his respects to his own sister, then no one was.

It wasn’t even a very decorated headstone. Just her name and the dates of her birth and death (‘ _Murder,’_ he corrected, overwhelmed again by the flood of accusations that always followed that, ‘ _She deserved it; she didn’t;_ **_I_ ** _did; I deserve to die, I killed her by bringing Andrew home; I let a monster into her home and there were already two monsters living there_ ’).

When they had been inscribing the headstone for her, someone might have asked Aaron for his input. Or they might not have. He had been sixteen at the time and he had been a cocktail mix of grief and shock, worried about Andrew’s recovery in the hospital but also sick with the suspicion of what Andrew might have done and then later fervent in his denial about _why_ Andrew might have done it. Not to mention he’d been shaking his way through an early withdrawal – his memory of those few days were bound to be as shaky as he had been, locked away in that horrid bathroom and unable to escape himself.

“Andrew killed her,” Aaron had said to Katelyn, one of two reliable truths he knew from that time. “He did it for me,” he confessed, quieter, still ashamed of this second truth.

Katelyn had shivered with her own ghosts of Andrew. It had been three years then, since Andrew had released Aaron from their deal, and Andrew hadn’t grown much more tolerant of Katelyn’s presence in any environment. He even took to fidgeting with one of his knives if she stayed too long in the same room with him. Katelyn, for her part, had grown a little more courageous over time but not enough that she ever purposely antagonized Andrew.

He knew that she and Neil had exchanged a few words here and there, commonly around the twins’ birthday so that they could organize plans to keep the twins apart when they were all still at Palmetto. The year before, Katelyn had surprised Neil with a gift for his own birthday, a small fruit basket she had made herself. Fellow Vixens had commented how thoughtful she was to gift Neil with all his favourite fruits; the Foxes all knew how clever she had been to give a consumable gift, since Andrew likely wouldn’t stand for being reminded of her existence for more than a couple days. Neil had exchanged phone numbers with her that day, a small show of his acceptance for their relation as pseudo-in-laws.

In his plane seat, Aaron remembered how happy she had been that day, skipping on her feet and excessively enthusiastic at her cheer practice. He resolved again to push Neil towards apologizing for what he had said to her yesterday, knowing how much it meant to Katelyn that she was accepted by his family.

He sank back into his memory of his own graveyard visit…

Katelyn had crouched down to see Tilda’s headstone at some point. “Forty,” she had murmured, doing the math in her head. “She was about my age when she got pregnant with you and Andrew.”

Aaron had nodded. “She never said I ruined her life, not even when she was angry.” It was true but he knew it was only because her life had been ruined long before he and Andrew had entered her womb. “She did say she wished she’d never taken me back though. Said she should’ve left me with him, at the hospital for adoption. Not all the time, but… when she took a bad hit and was just waiting to pass out, she’d say shit like that, even if I wasn’t home.”

Katelyn had taken his hand between her own. “How do you know that?”

“She used to say it to Andrew, the few short months he lived with us. He never told me if she thought he was me or not.”

Katelyn had rubbed his hand, warming them and trying to sooth his past hurt. “That’s an awful thing to say.”

Aaron had snorted. “Can’t blame her. Can you imagine being pregnant right now?”

At the time, they had both stiffened, unwilling to broach again the discussion of children between them. The weekend before this visit, Aaron and Katelyn had celebrated their engagement with her family and, inevitably, the question of grandkids had arisen. Aaron and Katelyn’s admission that they planned to never have kids was met with a tense unspoken disapproval. They ended up leaving earlier than originally planned. That had been the whole reason for visiting Tilda’s grave actually – after being doubted by his in-laws, Aaron was reminding himself about the poisonous rot in his family tree and why it had to end with him.

“Aaron,” Katelyn had said, turning his face away from Tilda’s remains, turning him towards her, “kids have never been a part of the plan – not yours or mine or ours – but if,” she had grabbed his chin here, to keep his eyes on hers, “ _if_ I were pregnant right now, I wouldn’t have time for regret Aaron. No matter what we chose to do about it. I’m not interested in regretting anything about you, you hear me?”

Even now, it amazed Aaron how warm he felt when she said things like that – how she continuously proved that his capacity for love didn’t cut off at the hard end of an Exy racquet making warm corpses out of cold men. She proved he was still able to be warm, to be gentle, still able to smile about something as little as a ring on the proper finger.

Katelyn Minyard.

He loved her. He had been madly in love with her for years.

He had  _married_ her and he was going to spend the rest of his life with her, feeling just as warm.

It was nothing like any life he could have had if Tilda had still been alive. He knew that well enough. She never would have let him live his own life, would have found ways to keep him close to her and away from Nicky, away from university, away from Katelyn or any equivalent of her he might have met. For all that Tilda had believed her son to be a cancer in her life, he was all she had. Well, him and drugs. When Andrew was brought home, she tried to have him too but Tilda was too weak an anchor to sink her claws into the son she had so thoroughly unattached herself from years ago. Instead, she had tried to drown Aaron twice as fast, trying to keep him from even Andrew, even though they lived in the same house.

Andrew had made sure she couldn’t succeed.

That was the truth Aaron had taken years to accept: Andrew had freed him, even if only because he thought it meant Aaron would become his instead. Aaron owed his life to Andrew and both brothers knew it. Both were also uninterested in acknowledging that fact.

This was the truth that Aaron had taken years to discover: Andrew loved Aaron. That had truly become clear to Aaron at his trial. Andrew’s love might burn differently than Aaron’s, but it burned all the same. As much as Andrew continually disappointed Aaron’s expectations of what having a brother was like, after the trial Aaron no longer wanted Andrew to disappear from his life. Quite the opposite, he wanted Andrew to appear in his life. Often. Or as often as they both could stand.

“I want to invite Andrew to the wedding,” Aaron had said, that day in the cemetery, drawing Katelyn close when he felt the slight tremble in her hands. The smile on her face told him she was shaking from the cold, not from fear of her soon-to-be brother-in-law.

“I was hoping you would,” she had replied.

This was the truth Aaron had never said aloud: he didn’t regret that the two women he ever loved never got to meet.

Softened by his musing, Aaron turned in his seat to look at Neil again. There was no change from before.

Aaron’s own trip to Tilda’s grave had been… not exactly _healing_ but… there had been closure. It had grounded him in the present, reminded him of truths; as he settled in for a nap himself, Aaron vaguely hoped that Mary’s grave would do the same for Neil. For Andrew’s sake.

 

* * *

 

 **** _ **From: Neil**  
_ _In Cali._

 **_From: Allison  
_ ** _Not a bad time to work on your tan._

 

* * *

 

After landing, Neil was eager to rent a car and drive straight to the shore he buried her. Aaron had put his foot down ranting that just because the time difference had given them three additional hours, didn’t mean the day hadn’t been ungodly – an early wake-up, a ten-hour flight, and then no dinner on top of it? Aaron wouldn’t stand for it.

So while Aaron ate a hearty meal at the first diner they found, Neil ran through three different ways he could steal the keys, make off with their rental car, and get to the proper beach before the sun went down. He really wasn’t a fan of Aaron’s idea to wait another night before finding her – he wasn’t sure he could stand another nightmare like he had in Aaron and Katelyn’s apartment the night before. (He had bit his pillow to keep himself quiet but there was nothing he could do for the resulting four hours he spent aimlessly awake, unwilling to fall back asleep, worried that if he tried to get up his body would stick to the couch like Velcro – the way hers had in the end.)

Truly the only thing that stopped any of his three schemes was the worry that he wouldn’t be so good behind the wheel right now. The drive to the diner hadn’t lasted five minutes but Neil had already begun categorizing the similarities and differences between their rented Niisan and the car Mary had died in. The only blessing was that Neil and Mary had never passed through Eureka to get to California’s lost coast – nothing looked remotely familiar enough to Neil to trigger any truly powerful flashbacks.

After dinner Neil tried again to get Aaron to make for the beach – the nearest shore was at least a two-hour drive away from the city and they were losing daylight – but once again, Aaron dug his heels in and found them a motel room first. Neil hadn’t felt so close to throwing a tantrum since Bradley Stokes had illegally tackled him and sprained both his wrists in little league Exy.

It was another half hour before they were unlocking the door to their room of two nights. Neil hadn’t spared the room a single look before he chucked his duffel in the general direction of the two twin beds and demanded once more that they make the trip to the black sand beaches that night. Aaron tried to argue that the three-hour time difference meant they didn’t actually have those seven hours left in the day but Neil insisted.

Not even a minute later, they were folded back inside the car, ready for two hours of Neil directing Aaron on a southward route.

 

* * *

 

Neil almost tripped over himself, flying out of the car before Aaron had even parked it. Unsettled by that frantic display, Aaron breathed deep three times and moved the car even closer to the edge of the beach’s parking lot.

This wasn’t going to be good.

He watched Neil wander the beach for a while. Not a long stretch of it, just a few yards of black sand but Neil kept marching back and forth, constantly looking around, even kneeling down to touch the sand in some places and second-guessing himself before turning back, only to repeat the whole thing over again.

Aaron vaguely thought of telling Neil to sit still and calm himself down – or better yet, get in the car before he succumbed to a nervous breakdown – but he wasn’t interested in being ignored so he stood out of the way patiently, keeping a watchful eye as Neil grew more distressed with every turn. Eventually, Neil gave up on his own, dropped his ass in the sand put his head between his knees and tugged his hair. His shoulders were heaving and trembling with irregular breathing; Aaron seriously wondered if he was crying, then immediately began calculating how much shit he’d get from Andrew over this.

Kicking himself for not fighting Neil harder on this, Aaron approached him slowly, making sure his footsteps could be heard. It didn’t seem to matter. Once he got close enough, he heard that Neil was talking to himself.

“I didn’t mark her,” he was saying, pulling his hair on every other word, “I – I didn’t… I didn’t mark her, I didn’t…”

 _‘Perfect,’_ Aaron thought, _‘he’s distraught enough to pour his fucking heart out.’_ He _definitely_ should have fought Neil harder on this.

Their only luck was that practically no one else was on the beach with them. Aaron had never been more grateful for people’s aversion to involving themselves in the affairs of random strangers; the three people on the beach with them were giving them a wide berth.

Trying to pull Neil away from a full-blown panic attack, Aaron crouched in front of him and said, “You were on the run. It would’ve been stupid to mark her grave.”

Neil must have heard him because he curled up into himself tighter and tenser and his shakes began to get worse. “I used to know exactly how many steps. I… I used to _walk_ it – every night that first year I walked it. It was _here_ , she’s supposed to be _here_ but I _can’t –_ ”

Rolling his eyes, Aaron pulled out his phone and dialed.

“ _What happened?_ ” Andrew snarled.

Aaron didn’t bother answering, just caged Neil’s head between his hands: one holding the phone to Neil’s ear and the other gripping the idiot’s neck to better sell the illusion that Andrew was there. Neil didn’t even flinch at the sudden touches, still rambling and losing himself to panic.

 _‘Fucking mothers,’_ Aaron thought, cursing every single one.

Despite Neil running his mouth at a mile a minute, Aaron could hear the faint mutter of Andrew trying to get a word in edgewise. He wasn’t sure if Andrew was succeeding or if Neil was even aware that Andrew was with him at all. Aaron shook him once, firmly, just in case. Neil hiccupped.

Then Neil’s hands were moving away, one clutching Aaron’ s phone, the other twisting itself into Aaron’s shirt; his crying was obvious now, words jagged and rough like they were being ripped from his throat, “I can’t find her, Andrew. I can’t – I don’t know where she’s gone.”

Aaron cursed the world again, dug his fingers into Neil’s neck, certain Andrew was dishing out some harsh reality about where exactly Neil’s mother had gone to.

“Uh, hey, is he alright?”

“Yeah, do you guys need help?”

Aaron did his best to merely look at the audience of strangers, rather than glare at them. “He’ll be fine. He’s on the phone with his boyfriend. Thanks though.”

They hesitated, and Neil chose that particular moment to fall forward and tuck his wet snotty face under Aaron’s chin. Aaron tried not to shudder but he was grossed out to suddenly know how Neil and his brother fit together in close quarters. Still, it wasn’t gross enough that Aaron would recruit the strangers to help pile Neil into the car a few yards behind them – he didn’t know what Andrew might do if Aaron was forced to admit that he’d let unfamiliar hands touch Neil while he was vulnerable. (And even though Aaron had explicitly refused to promise Neil’s safety, that wouldn’t stop Andrew from never speaking to Aaron again.)

Aaron refused to lose Andrew over a living breathing thing like Neil and his package of denied trauma.

Bracing himself, Aaron gathered Neil close and hoisted him up, carrying him like a child. He was startled at how light Neil was, not at all the weight he would expect of a collegiate athlete. In fact, now that he had him close, Aaron could feel bones he shouldn’t be able to feel.

Aaron smacked himself mentally. Neil hadn’t been eating. Not for a while, from the feel of it.

Andrew was going to rake him over hot coals for this.


	3. Saturday

Neil woke up in stages.

The first was a realization of how heavy and tight everything felt, his skin too close to his muscles and his muscles too close to his bones. The second was a fuzzy awareness of sounds around him: a news program running on the room’s television, someone clicking a pen repeatedly, distant cars, air blowing through a vent somewhere. The third was his eyes opening, shutting again when they were met with direct sunlight.

Neil might have panicked if he had the energy – he couldn’t once remember a day he had slept through the sunrise, not even in Nathaniel’s life before Mary had him run.

_‘...Oh.’_

The thought of his mother hit him life a soft hit to the chest, his stomach cramping with hunger and grief. His breakdown on the beach was the last thing he remembered but now he was on his side, lying atop the covers on a motel bed. The clock told him it was 1:38pm. Neil didn’t know how long he had slept. They might have arrived at the beach over fifteen hours ago. His phone was on the table beside him, charging. He sent an uncaptioned picture of the room to Allison, shutting it off as soon as it sent and curling back up. It was past her twelve hour mark but the consequence was moot - Andrew knew anyway. 

For a moment, Neil hoped impossibly that Andrew had materialized from New York and carried him here from the beach. But Andrew didn’t know where he was. If he had, he would be with Neil here, sitting nearby and keeping a close watch, possibly smoothing his hair back. Neil gave a heavy sigh; he had never missed Andrew more desperately.

His heart ached. Everything did.

He was alone. Neil gave himself one minute to cry and feel awful about it before planning his next move.

One minute turned into ten.

And then fifteen more.

He was still sniffling and feeling awful when the door opened and Aaron walked through it, a bag of groceries in hand. Neil almost cried again and hid his face when he saw it wasn’t Andrew.

Seeing Neil was awake, Aaron set down his bag on the dresser and brought Neil a bottle of water. When Neil didn’t open it, Aaron huffed and twisted it open for him, glaring at him with stony eyes.

The water, welcome as it was, felt as rough as the sand Neil could feel caking his skin. “How’s Andrew?” he croaked.

Aaron gave him an odd stare for that, like he was surprised to hear for himself what Neil’s priorities were. “He’s Andrew.” Neil had a feeling he wouldn’t be getting any more details concerning that.

He sniffed and tried to get a hold of himself. “What happened?”

“You had a nervous breakdown.”

“Really? Never would have guessed.” This wasn't good; he already felt drained of energy from drinking a little water and his arm was beginning to shake. The idea of Aaron holding the bottle for him was embarrassing enough to force Neil to continue powering through on his own. He was almost surprised his muscles didn’t creak as they moved – he felt so much older today, as if yesterday had aged him by decades.

He choked a little and Aaron set the bottle on the nightstand, eyes taking on a more clinical nature. “Are you hurt anywhere? I did my best with you but you may have bruises somewhere – it wasn’t easy to carry you.”

Neil didn’t like hearing that. “I struggled?”

“No,” Aaron sounded offended by the suggestion that Neil might have given him trouble. “But I think you hit your head when I got you back in the car. You didn’t stay on the phone long. Do you feel nauseous at all?”

His stomach clenched on nothing, reminding him that everything hurt and he hadn’t eaten a proper meal in at least a week.

“I just feel hurt.” He confessed it quietly, half hoping Aaron wouldn’t hear him.

Aaron blinked but he didn’t roll his eyes like Neil had expected. “I’m trying to see if you have a concussion, you idiot.”

Oh. “My name is Neil Abram Josten. You’re Aaron Minyard and we’re in a motel in Eureka, California.”

Satisfied, Aaron moved back to the bag of food. Neil didn’t think he’d ever liked Aaron more when he saw him pull out an apple and paring knife.

Aaron settled himself on the same bed Neil was curled up on, sat near his knees and lay out a napkin between them. He began carving slices and leaving them on the napkin for Neil to feed himself. Distantly, Neil appreciated the effort Aaron made to allow Neil to care for himself; he didn’t know if it was because the idea of caring for Neil also made Aaron uncomfortable or if he understood that Neil needed to keep himself distant from everything for a while, but he was glad Aaron wasn’t cloying into his space.

“It’s amazing she made it this far, you know,” Aaron said. Neil closed his eyes, hoping Aaron would stop trying to make conversation on this topic. He wasn’t interested in discussing his mother’s death. There was a beat of hesitation before Aaron simply said, “It’s almost twelve hours from Seattle.”

Aaron didn’t say anything else. Didn’t cite how incredible it was that she hadn’t succumbed hours before, somewhere in Oregon or how it was probably infection that had killed her, blood spilling where it didn’t belong. Neil didn’t say anything either. What Aaron knew from his studies, Neil knew from Google.

Looking back, Neil didn’t know how Mary made it as far as she had. Somewhere in the fifth hour she had been hit with a dizzy spell so supreme she nearly drove them off the interstate. Then there had been a stretch of fifteen minutes that she spent hunched behind the wheel, eyes on her abdomen rather than the road.

Trying to offer an exchange for his care, Neil opened his eyes and simply said, “It’s only twelve hours if you abide the speed limits.”

Aaron didn’t nod or hum, like Andrew might have, but his eyes were just as piercing, seeing Neil’s admission for what it was and not sure what to do with it.

“Eat,” Aaron urged. “Andrew would kick your ass if he knew how prominent your ribs were.”

Neil couldn’t exactly argue.

They were quiet for the length of time it took Neil to finish the apple and an orange as well. By that time, Aaron had moved to sit on the other bed, eating a sandwich and watching the television while Neil stretched out his limbs. He thought he felt good enough for a shower and a change of clothes so he rolled out of bed to the protest of most his body.

Aaron was on the phone when he emerged from the bathroom.

“Thanks, babe,” he was saying, almost certainly to Katelyn. “I gotta go.” He smiled at something she said before ending the call.

“Didn’t have to stop for me,” Neil said, easing himself back on the bed, exhausted all over again from the effort of standing and walking.

“’S fine. I wanted to ask you something anyway.”

Neil nodded as he got comfortable, pretty sure he owed Aaron a few answers for his trouble.

“Why didn’t you tell Andrew about your nightmares?”

Neil felt his shoulders tense and his heart twist at the reminder of Andrew. He didn't bother asking how Aaron knew about the nightmares; between the night he bunked on Aaron's couch, the plane ride, and the breakdown, it was easy enough to witness. But that phone call on the beach had been the first time Andrew had heard about it. Neil was sure he was confused and upset that Neil hadn’t trusted him with any of it.

Neil watched his fingers trace distracted shapes in the bedspread. “…You know how he feels about Tilda.”

“He feels nothing for Tilda.”

“Exactly.” Neil sunk a little further into his pillow, feeling a deep sadness drape over him like a comforter. Andrew used to call him nothing and Neil hadn’t flinched or denied him. But if he had confided in Andrew and heard him call Mary nothing… Neil wasn’t sure if that was something he could stand. (Or forgive.)

Mary had been a fierce kind of woman, and utterly resourceful; money, mob connections, food, gas, the kindness of strangers, and even her own terror she had stretched and mastered and strained just to add days to their lifespans. Neil always thought her undeniable in her force of will. She had never been nothing – she had been everything; everything good, loving, and kind about his childhood. She had given up those parts of herself to take him away, and he hadn’t been strong enough to help her keep what was left. On the run, he had been too slow, too oblivious, too obtuse. His mistakes had earned her an ugly map of scars to mirror his own, all of them stories of how she’d had to rescue him from danger.

Aaron’s sudden laughter broke Neil out of his musing. He sounded genuinely amused. “You think Tilda means anything to me?”

Neil glared at him. “I know she does.”

“Not nearly as much as you think,” Aaron insisted, eyes running over Neil’s face, trying to find something. He didn’t look happy with what he found. “Oh, come on, Neil. You’ve got to be kidding me,” all traces of amusement were gone from his voice. “What? You knew Andrew wouldn’t hold your hand and cry with you over a woman who’s better off dead but you thought _I_ would?”

Neil shot him an ugly look for that. “Hardly, but… you understand, don’t you?”

Aaron didn’t say anything. Neil wasn’t sure whether it was because he didn’t know what Neil meant or didn’t want to admit he did.

Neil bought himself a minute by reaching for the bottle and taking a quick gulp of water. Then, courage gathered, he asked, “Do you ever miss her?”

 

* * *

 

 _God damn it._ It would have been better if two days ago Aaron had told Katelyn to turn Neil away.

To Aaron’s great annoyance, he _did_ understand. True, his feelings towards his mother and her death currently leaned towards _Good Riddance_ but it had taken over six years – three of those in fucking couples counseling with Andrew and Dr. Dobson – before Aaron could stand to hear Andrew dismiss Tilda as though she were less than a squashed ant on the bottom of his shoe.

Still, Neil’s question was a gateway into dangerous territory. He wasn’t sure how much of his own fucked up vulnerability over Tilda he could stand to let Neil know about. Before now, Katelyn, Andrew, and Dr. Dobson were the only people who had ever heard Aaron talk about Tilda – not even Nicky had made the cut. And now Neil was asking to be added to that list and Aaron had half a mind to keep him off it.

Then Aaron remembered the cool distance that Neil had maintained from Dr. Dobson while Aaron and Andrew had been Foxes. If Aaron’s list included three people, then Neil probably didn’t even have a list, especially if he hadn’t opened up to Andrew.

And then Neil went and asked if Aaron ever missed the mother who had been dead and rotting for nine years.

Aaron sighed as he fell back on his bed. “Not usually,” he conceded, not quite heartless enough to reject Neil his one (maybe first) chosen confidant.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Neil play with the hems of his sleeves, pulling at threads and stretching them over his fingers. Aaron kept his gaze on the stuccoed ceiling. It was always easier for him to talk about shit if he was talking to something blank – people always distracted him with pitying eyes and wrinkled expressions.

“You understand that feeling though? How it just… hurts, randomly? Like sometimes I just… I wanna tell her things. But I can’t. Or sometimes I’ll be sore after a game and want to just, I don’t know, smell her perfume or feel her hands in my hair or… stuff…” He sighed then, heavy and pathetic. “It just hurts.”

There was nothing Aaron could say to that. Tilda’s perfume had been a cocktail mix of old clothes, cocaine, and cigarette smoke. Her hands had never been gentle when they were in his hair – too busy either ripping chunks from his skull or throwing him into walls. Aaron privately suspected Neil was misremembering his mother, romanticizing what good memories he had of her. A woman on the run – who had been single-minded enough to make a twelve-hour drive while bleeding to her death – was not a woman who stopped to buy cosmetics for the road.

Then again, a woman trapped in a home with an abusive husband who had probably needed to hide the scent of blood from neighbours… maybe it was Nathaniel’s mother who Neil was missing. Neil had once mentioned playing little league Exy as a child - Aaron would bet Mary had been the one to take him to games.

Neil interrupted his thoughts with a new question, “Is there anything you would say to your mom, if she were alive?”

The words were rushed and close together, like he worried Aaron might laugh at him. Aaron nearly _did_ laugh but at least he had a ready response this time. “If Tilda Minyard was alive I wouldn’t say a damn word to her. And if I tried, it’d be pointless – she’d never hear me through her high. Or maybe Andrew would have gotten her imprisoned by now. Or maybe –”

“Okay, whatever!” Neil punched out, voice angry like Aaron’s had been all those years ago in Dr. Dobson’s office when he hadn't felt like he was being heard. “You don’t get it, and that’s _fine_ ,” he said that word the same way he always had, as though he was confused about its definition.

Aaron watched him push and shove at his pillow, dive into it and spit out, “Why would you?”

Aaron had probably been at least this dramatic back when he was at his angriest, and armed with the infamous paper thin Minyard patience. But there was something about Neil’s melodrama today that didn’t suit him – maybe because he had never cared about what Aaron said or thought before. Today he was letting Aaron’s usual apathy rub like sandpaper. What an idiot.

He wasn’t willing to let Neil stew and sulk in a fugue though – not when he needed Neil to be at peace and ready to travel home tomorrow. So he took a deep breath and sat up to face Neil head-on, already wishing he could end the conversation he was about to start.

“No, I get it. Choosing between your mom and Andrew – that’s a tough call. You’ll remember I was the first person to have that decision and it didn’t work out well for me.” Neil dropped his jaw, perhaps insulted at Aaron’s comparison. Aaron didn’t give a shit. “Only difference between us is: you can’t actually have your mom. Now, look, I know better than anyone that Andrew isn’t the easiest person to have in your life but I _cannot_ _fathom_ why you’re trying so hard to pick having nothing over having my brother.”

Neil shook his head, arguing, “She isn’t nothing!”

“She is,” Aaron insisted, “we came all this way to prove it.” He still saw a glimmer of fierce denial in Neil’s eyes, so Aaron drove home the point firmly, “She isn’t here, Neil. She isn’t anywhere.”

Neil looked away before Aaron did, curling up tight like he had been when he first woke up. Aaron didn’t bother saying anything further – he had said what needed to be said.

 

* * *

 

Aaron had gone out and brought back burgers before they spoke again. It was humbling to Neil that Aaron continued to take such care of him despite the general disapproval Aaron seemed to have for anything Neil said or did.

Aaron was definitely rough around the edges but he had come a long way from the cactus-covered bastard he had been in Neil’s freshman year.

The burger wasn’t going down easy. Neil wondered if it was having a tough time getting past the words lodged in his throat. Since he wasn’t eating anyway, Neil spoke up, careful to avoid Aaron’s direct gaze, “I don’t remember her face anymore.”

Aaron, perhaps sensing the gravity of what Neil was saying, set down his food and gave Neil his full attention.

“You have pictures, right?” Neil asked, feeling childish and needy. “I don’t. We didn’t take any when we ran and obviously we made a point to avoid cameras afterwards. It was her birthday, back in May. She would be turning… forty-five this year? Around there. I’m not sure why I remembered it this year. Back when Andrew was around, I never thought much of it, and she never let us celebrate our birthdays when we were running. But I remembered this year and when I lit a cigarette to think of her I...” Neil cleared his throat, unsure if he wanted to divulge that the smell had only made him think of Andrew, who had been busy being wined and dined in New York City by the Liberties managerial team. “I just couldn’t see her. Guess it freaked me out.”

Aaron passed him a napkin. For a horrifying moment, Neil was worried he had wept without noticing but then he realized some condiments had fallen from his burger onto his pants.

“You’ve been dreaming about her that long?” Aaron asked.

Neil nodded. “And I’ve been thinking about the hundreds of things I would tell her if I could.”

Aaron let out a ‘pfft’ and turned back to his food. “You have a working mouth, Josten.”

It was as good an invitation as any but, “She won’t hear me.”

“That can make it easier.” When Neil looked at him, Aaron winced and explained, “I said I wouldn’t spare a word for Tilda if she was alive but I visited her grave once – a bit before Katelyn and I got married. It was… not nice, exactly but… Well, yeah actually. It was nice not to worry I’d be beat for anything I said.”

Neil’s entire posture softened. “I didn’t know you had been to her grave.”

Aaron’s voice was gruff. “Yeah, well, I don’t plan on revisiting.” He wiped his mouth with a napkin and brushed off his crumbs while he stood. Neil thought he was physically running away from the conversation but then Aaron grumbled, “Finish that and rest up, Josten. We’re going back to Mary’s grave tomorrow so you can spill all your secrets.”


	4. Sunday

It was easier to find her that time, with his heart less grieved and his stomach less empty. Of course, Neil couldn’t know for sure that he had found her actual burial ground – he hadn’t left any markings at the time, either permanent or temporary, save the burning car – but he retraced the steps taken from dreams and memory and when he stopped the patch of beach felt like the right sort of sand for new beginnings.

He took a quick picture of the sunrise to send to Allison. Then he turned his back to the waves, lowered himself to the sand and said, “Hi, Mom.”

Aaron stood back a respectful distance, feet buried in the sand and eyes on the horizon. Even with his arms crossed, his expression seemed gentle – Neil thought he might be remembering his honeymoon and thinking of Katelyn. It made Neil smile slightly, to think that beaches were about more than goodbyes and memories washed away with the tides. Permanent things could exist here; beaches made it possible for things to start anew.

Before Aaron could catch him staring, Neil turned his attention back to the black sand in front of him, hugged his knees and whispered, “I have so much to tell you.” He paused then, unsure of where to start, despite having thought of little else for the past seven months. Then he laughed gently at himself – all things related to Neil Josten started with Andrew Minyard.

“I met someone,” he said, smiling without thinking about it. “His name is Andrew and he’s… incredible. He’s smart, and beautiful, and the strongest person I’ve ever met. You’d probably hate him but,” here Neil took a deep breath, finally ready to give voice to the truth that had been rattling inside him ever since Andrew’s last game as a Fox, “I’m pretty sure I love him, Mom. As sure as I can be and… I want to keep loving him. For as long as he’ll have me. But I don’t know if he feels the same and I’m scared to tell him. I’m not sure he’d believe me.”

The only response he got was the blowing of the wind. No stinging slap, no shaking of his shoulders, no sharp lecture about the dangers of letting someone close. Neil was surprised to find he had somehow expected there would be, even from beyond the grave. But there was _nothing_. She couldn’t stop him anymore.

Aaron had been right, it was an incredible relief to be able to speak without any looming threat of punishment.

Neil could have shouted from the rooftops. He grinned and breathed in the beach air heavy with seasalt, felt it purify the ugly squirming weight he had been travelling with since the first nightmare. Gulls were calling from somewhere above him and it was suddenly the most liberating sound Neil knew.

“Guess I’ll just have to prove it if he doesn’t.”

He felt sort of... giddy at the thought of a lifetime spent with Andrew. In time with his rejuvenated heartbeat, Neil felt this dream settle where the weight in his gut had been, warm and humming and hopeful. His hand cradled it and he marveled that it persisted and didn’t vanish. After that, the words came easy, stories about the Foxes, and their championships, and his goals for the future.

An hour later, when Aaron called him back so they could catch the return flight, the warmth still hadn’t simmered down.

 

* * *

 

The pilot had announced their descent by the time Neil was courageous enough to ask, “How did you know you wanted to marry Katelyn?”

Aaron didn’t answer right away. He had to know that Neil’s question wasn’t mere curiosity; it was an admission that he had been thinking about marriage with Andrew. Neil had no doubt that Aaron would’ve objected if he had admitted this anytime before now, but maybe that wasn’t fair. Aaron had grown more mellow with time and distance, more accepting of Neil’s role in Andrew’s life (and his own).

This weekend had unlocked a new understanding between them. Not exactly one they were happy about. Neil would have been happier if they could be the sort of men who could bond over Exy; Aaron probably would have preferred someone who could pass a science course with more than the minimum grade requirement. They likely weren’t ever going to be good friends – they’d never call each other up for a beer, they’d never commentate on current events together, they wouldn’t ever spend an evening staying in and watching a game together.

And now Neil had implied they might be brothers someday. It was, understandably, a leap to go from begrudging acquaintances to whatever they were now and then again to brothers-in-law.

The plane had touched down and was waiting for a gate to be made available when Aaron finally answered, “I think I always wanted to marry Katelyn. First it was because I wanted to get away from Andrew. I used to imagine Katelyn and I running away together, making a life for ourselves where Andrew wasn’t constantly breathing down my neck. Then, when I decided to become a doctor, she just… became a person I wanted my life to be about. Helping her, sharing things with her, making her life better. If I can do any of that, just by being me, then my life will have been a good one – despite it’s shitty beginning.”

Neil marvelled at the man beside him. He’d had no idea Aaron was a romantic. (Unconsciously, Neil moved a hand to that warmth nestled in his middle, feeling how it had swelled during the latter half of Aaron’s answer, fluttering with familiarity, recognizing itself. Neil hadn’t known _he_ was a romantic either.)

“Does she feel the same?”

Aaron nodded and dryly said, “Because we actually _tell_ each other about our feelings.”

Neil felt he could argue. Except for this once, he and Andrew were very open about their thoughts, feelings, and boundaries. They just didn’t always share with words. When Andrew moved away to NYC, Neil lost access to his expressions, body language, and general atmosphere to read him. Neil could see now: he hadn’t adjusted well to the absence of communication and instead of telling Andrew or coming up with other compensation, he had stupidly tried to tough it out alone because he was never supposed to be this dangerously dependent.

He was looking forward to talking to Andrew now though.  

A ding rang out to signal people it was safe to stand. In the commotion, Aaron added, “The wedding and ceremony was a whole other decision. I didn’t know I wanted those until I decided I want a hundred different people to kick my ass if I ever break her heart.”

When Neil thought of what he’d deserve if he ever hurt Andrew, he could sympathize perfectly.

 

* * *

 

Katelyn and Aaron’s reunion at Charleston’s airport was a bigger gesture than Neil would have expected – it had only been two days since Katelyn dropped them off, there was no need for her to envelop her husband with that much fuss – but that warmth in his middle wouldn’t let him look away. Katelyn wrapped Aaron with her arms and spun him around, putting cheerleading muscles to good use. Aaron had chuckled at her and took advantage of the embrace to bite kisses into her neck, which made her yelp and giggle.

It was nothing like what he and Andrew would do but Neil swore he saw the same warmth in his middle radiating out of Aaron and Katelyn’s smiles and he couldn’t begrudge them their heavy-handed affection.

When she finally set Aaron down, Katelyn turned to Neil, offering a small smile and a light touch to his shoulder. “You okay, Neil?”

He was touched she would ask, considering how things between them had been left. “Yeah. Aaron was exactly what I needed.” Then, aware that this had been the entire reason he flew back to Charleston instead of Clemson, Neil stood up straight and said, “Katelyn. About what I said to you before, it was uncalled for and I apologize. Whatever it’s worth, you’ve always had my respect and… admiration.”

Her smile grew. “Thank you for saying that. Your opinion is worth something to me, Neil, and I’ve always been honoured to have i

 

* * *

 

“I’m fine to get on another plane, really,” Neil tried for the fifth time in vain. “I don’t understand why you’re insisting I stay another day.”

“I’m a med student,” Aaron said from the driver’s seat, holding Katelyn’s hand across the gear shift, “and I say you need to rest. Katelyn agrees.” Katelyn nodded helpfully, throwing a quick smile over her shoulder. Neil was still confused as to how Aaron had known Katelyn would agree so readily – as far as he could tell they hadn’t had an opportunity to discuss this impromptu sleepover.

“I have practice tomorrow!” Neil cried, giving it one more shot.

Katelyn laughed. “You have classes too, I’ll bet,” she teased and then that was the end of it. Aggravated, Neil gave up and let his head fall back; if he was staying to rest, he might as well start now.

 

* * *

 

The _real_ reason Aaron had forced him to stay became obvious when the three of them stepped into the apartment.

“Andrew?” Neil exclaimed, shocked to see Aaron’s mirror image sat on Aaron’s couch and lethargically poking the fishbowl to enrage the huffing fish inside.

Andrew looked up at that, eyes anything but lethargic. He glanced briefly towards his twin, who said, “We’ll be turning up the volume on our tv,” before dragging a conspiring Katelyn into the bedroom and shutting the door. Andrew’s attention returned to Neil, expression as shaken and worried as Neil had ever seen it.

“ _Andrew_ ,” Neil repeated, stumbling towards the couch his whole world sat upon.

“Neil,” he said, making it a greeting, question, and accusation all in one.

Neil fell straight down on the couch, still amazed that Andrew was right in front of him. Aaron was no substitute; he didn’t hold enough pride in his jaw, not enough humour in his brow, not enough conviction in his spine, not enough honesty in his arms. The intelligence in Aaron’s eyes was assessing but not razor whip sharp the way Andrew’s was – Neil didn’t know how Tilda or anyone else had ever managed to mistake one twin for the other. They were worlds apart as far as Neil was concerned (Katelyn too, probably).

Then Neil remembered that the last time Andrew heard from him was during the latest breakdown. “Shit! Andrew, oh, I’m so sorry, you must have been –”

Andrew hushed him with a thumb pressed to his lips. “I was,” he admitted, shoulders slowly losing their tension now that he was touching Neil. For all the abuse he had endured, Andrew had always been tactile on his own terms. “But I knew where you were. Aaron called me before you ever left.”

As relieved as Neil was to hear that, he felt guilty. “I should have called you long before that,” he mumbled, kissing Andrew’s thumb, happy beyond words to be soaking in his presence.

Andrew didn’t bother responding to that. Instead, he dropped his gaze, rubbed lightly at Neil’s lips and leaned in, asking, “Later, we’ll talk. Now… Yes or no?”

Neil barely got out a “ _God,_ yes” before Andrew stopped him talking a second time.

Neil felt his fully body ignite with wildfire, an all-consuming thing that would greedily hoard whatever Andrew gave him – and Andrew was giving him _everything_. Anger in the bite of his teeth and the glare of half-lidded eyes; reverence in the hand that cradled Neil’s neck and the soft nip given to Neil’s lower lip; worry, still, in the small desperate sounds Andrew let escape when Neil’s tongue slid against his; need as fierce as Neil’s in the arm that yanked them close and led Neil’s hands to his hair.

Breaking away was hell on earth but Neil _had_ to know, “Tell me where I can touch you.”

Andrew attacked his neck and didn’t answer until Neil’s breath was as heavy as his falling head. “Under my shirt,” he growled, nipping Neil’s chin when he was too slow to make sense of what Andrew had said.

Neil ran his hands along the span of Andrew’s well muscled back, quickly shutting down a small thought toward how unimpressive his own musculature had become – that wasn’t nearly as important as getting his knees out of the way so Andrew could be pulled even closer.

It took some messy, bruising maneuvering but Neil managed to straddle Andrew’s hips without damaging anything important. It was perfect. They were pressed chest-to-chest now, Andrew’s glassy eyes gazing up at Neil, his lips red and swollen, hands just as warm and pressing as Neil’s were on his back.

Throwing him a salacious grin, Neil shifted his weight backwards, first into Andrew’s hands and then beyond them, keeping his own hold strong so Andrew was pulled with him. His head hit the arm of the couch but he didn’t care to readjust – he had Andrew exactly where he wanted him, on top and right where Neil couldn’t escape him if he tried.

Happy enough to forget himself, Neil reached up to give a smooch to Andrew’s forehead. Seeing the wrinkles that appeared on Andrew’s face, Neil laughed and darted up to tease and tug an earlobe with lips and teeth.

Once Andrew was breathing exclusively through his mouth, Neil made his voice raspy and said, “I want you.” ' _Forever_ ,' he finished in his mind, satisfied that this was the closest thing to an ‘I love you’ he was ready to let Andrew hear right now.

Groaning, Andrew let his head fall into Neil’s chest. “Think you can come with your pants on, Josten? This is still Aaron’s couch.”

“I can if it’s you,” Neil replied, more earnest than he would have been if thoughts of love weren’t running through every nerve in his brain. Andrew’s expression was still a little suffering when he lifted his head, as though he was certain this was a bad idea. Neil could feel his hard-on though, and he felt Andrew’s thundering heartbeat against his own.

Brimming with far too much feeling, Neil moved a hand from Andrew’s back to his chin and guided his face into a kiss of epically deep proportions.

 

* * *

 

 ** _From Neil:_ ** ****_  
_ _[selfie with Andrew]_ _  
_ _Back home. =)_

 **_From Allison:  
_ ** _Glad to hear it! Wear collared shirts when you go outside, love._

 

* * *

 

**[Fin.]**


End file.
